Soul to Squeeze
by SavingRain
Summary: In the face of a tragedy, Inuyasha makes a final request. (11) InuyashaKikyou, InuyashaKagome


"Soul to Squeeze"

By SavingRain

Pairing(s): Kikyou/Inuyasha, Kagome/Inuyasha

Rating: PG-13, for violence, mentions of death and suicide

Parts: (1/1)

Summary: In the face of a tragedy, Inuyasha makes a final request.

Notes: "Soul to Squeeze" is a song by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, I would like to say that I chose it out of eloquence, (while it does fit the mood of the story) but I honestly was at a loss for a title for this.

Time and time again, the fool would draw her here, bathing in the obsequiousness of his presence. All men were fools, fawning, toadying studies of the faults of the world, utterly unable to see where time would lead them in the next breath. A choice was not a choice; it was a mirror of greatness, one where they would fawn over themselves for another day or year, in the great scheme to extend their lives overmuch. She had not always thought this way, even with the pain of living beckoned for her soul, threatening to wrap it up in its squalid torture, immersing her in filth and casting her deep inside, making her forget and close her eyes, lulling her into the deep dark sleep that would soon unravel into death.

Would that death be sweet?

Kikyou asked herself this every day, and every moment that she spent placing her hands over a dead man's wounds, cleaning the aches and sores away. She wondered how much happier he would be if she allowed him to slip away into his pain. Would he be accepting as it folded him up into an endless sleep, or would he curse her for all eternity for closing her fist over his face?

Questions, questions, questions: she was plagued by them with every waking eye. The soul that could not slip into the pain was tortured in a different way, with the pain of wondering.

Fools that men are, they often think that the world stops with their end. They believe that the absence of their intervention should send their loved ones into a fury of sadness and grief that they can never awake from. Time should stand frozen, and the hearts that men break should never reseal.

A soft breeze caressed her cheek, and she let her face slide to the side, like a petal falling off of a blossom, grown too heavy for its weakening stalk. Her head slumped and she clutched her bow and arrows to herself, stumbling forward. A pain bit through her ankle.

With so much pain, in a world full of death, swelling like rancid, fettered flesh and threatening to overflow and spill out, how could she have presumed that she would not become a victim to it? In life, physical pain had cried out to her, and she had feared it and suffered it often. In death, it was absent to her and lived only as a weight on her soul. Now, reawakened, she rarely felt the sting of physical pain, only the sharp edge of destruction, hot and fierce against her soul. One hand instinctively flew up to her shoulder. Where was the familiar wetness of blood and the ache of eternal damnation that lingered there?

She turned her head, almost expecting to see her very life flowing forth, into the chasm of darkness before her, calling her with all of its might. The pinch of her ankle beckoned and she waited, thinking that this would be her last draught—the last drink that would end her physical pain forever, and throw her back into the waxing darkness.

Why else would she feel a pain in her ankle instead of the lingering bite in her shoulder and neck? Where else would the hot blood gush out, if not from her swollen, gaping side?

If it flowed from within her, she should allow it out, out, and let her life, newly restored, slip away. The dead did not bleed; they belched their souls out into the ether and watched as they dissipated in great droves among the clouds.

"Kikyou!"

His voice called to her, and she turned in what she hoped was a fluid motion, because even in death she could not allow her vanity to escape her. She was still very human, still full of faults, and her coldness could not dispel them. Her hand fell from her shoulder and she watched him growing near her, full of life, blown by the wind and flushed with fear.

"Inuyasha," she breathed, aware that she was breathing, that for once the feelings in her breast were real, and they flowed out beyond her, into a time that had long passed. "Have you come to watch me die?"

He stopped short of her, almost too afraid to approach. Did he think she would kill him, even with her very blood spilling down into the earth? Her pain shook her and she reared forward. Would he catch her or let her die with her face turned towards the ashes of the dead, would he let her succumb to the bad luck that had lingered on her soul for eternity? He came forward, and in a second was at her side, supporting her, tugging her to his chest. Kikyou leaned back, rolling her brown eyes up into his gaze, daring him to release her.

"Isn't it fitting Inuyasha," she murmured, in a lilting silky voice, "that I am going to die, after once again being rewarded with life?"

He shook her and she felt her head swim, and her eyes fell on his lips as they shouted words that she could not understand. Tears threatened to well from her eyes, but she held them back, and with all of her strength, Kikyou willed herself to let go and die, one last time.

-

"You aren't dead."

His voice came to her from some place beyond the darkness and the shadow, and Kikyou let her eyes flutter open as she tried to drive it away.

"Impossible," she felt her body take in a great deal of air, and her limbs loosen slightly, making it easier to sit up straight as Inuyasha tugged on her. Raising one hand to push him back, she struggled to rise on her own weight, but found herself unable to do so.

"You have a sprained ankle." He looked distraught, and his golden eyes bore through her, and she didn't dare to think what he must have been thinking…he had to be wondering whether or not it was a blessing that she was alive, or would it be better if she had died, if Midoriko's gift had left her gratified to feel her heart beat, and content to feel an arrow pushed through it in the next.

"But the blood—" Kikyou lowered her eyes and saw that there was none, and she was curled up beneath blankets instead, warmed by a fire that burned not more than four feet away, and sitting beside a haggard and angry looking half demon.

"There wasn't any!" Inuyasha growled and grabbed her arm, pulling her up. "Kikyou—"

She jerked back, questions swarmed in her head again, and she placed one hand on his, trying to throw him away from her as the pain swelled up in her ankle again, and her mind slipped from one thought to the next. Why was he doing this, why was he here? Had she imagined the blood, and the wound from Naraku's poison? Midoriko had truly cursed her if she had dared to leave her alive, especially if what she had seen moments into the battle had been true…

"Kagome is dead." She heard herself say the words before she could fathom the repercussions of uttering them aloud. Inuyasha released her for a moment, and then grabbed her again, more fiercely and with more pain than she thought possible, crushing her against his chest.

"Only for now," he balanced her gently, keeping a firm grip on her arm again, so that she could not turn or flee.

Kikyou gazed at him, wondering what he meant, until she realized that her bow and arrows were gone, and he was attempting to secure her so that she could not flee or use her powers against him. Her dark eyes ran over his face and she saw the pain in them. He was thoroughly tortured by the thought of her reincarnation's eternal absence.

She turned her face away with a nonchalant air and felt a familiar bitterness and sadness rise in her throat.

"You should go to her family, Inuyasha."

He tensed, and she kept her face away from his, not wanting to see the pain there. No pain should pass over this girl's death, not while her soul, his true, ancient love's soul had been restored! The bitterness persisted, accompanied by that strange, foreign sadness that Kikyou knew was not for herself, but for the girl that was, the woman she was back then, and the girl who looked at this hanyou with shiny bright eyes and gave him promises of an endless future. This girl was everything that she could not offer as a walking, living death, and now, in her place, Kikyou found herself realizing the pain of not being enough. Her love would not replace the fondness or the deep religion he had nurtured in his chest for this girl, he would rather worship her for eternity than look kindly on a second chance with the woman who now stood before him, renewed and once again breathing living air.

"How would her family feel," she continued, following the course of her mind, ignoring the familiar aching of her heart. "Certain things must be done; you must let her go in peace, as her ancestors once did."

"As you want her to," Inuyasha held her tighter and pulled her onto his back, feeling Kikyou's limp form give into him.

The shock of true pain filled her, and she felt her ankle throb, followed by a pain in her back, and a sharp throbbing in her head.

"Kagome is still safe, but I need you to bring her back for me—"

"I cannot."

"Stop thinking of you!" he shouted, so angry that Kikyou felt the rumbling in his chest, and wondered where the devoted, confused lover was, who swore himself to her, even as she threatened to end his life. "We'll go to Kagome, and you will restore her soul so that she can be alive again."

"Alive, while I die?" Kikyou demanded, she gathered her strength and pushed against him, trying to free herself.

"No," Inuyasha insisted, hearing the pain in her voice as she stumbled away, bracing her body against a tree. He watched her, feeling shame well up inside of himself as he realized what he had said. "Not dead," he reached one hand out to her, and she shrunk back, full of the familiar hate that permeated her soul. "I just want you to give her back some of her soul…Midoriko said that you have a great soul, bigger than any other's—there was enough for both you and Kagome at one time, there can be again, since she now lives inside of you."

"Inuyasha—"

"Kikyou please," his voice wilted, and she watched as he fell to his knees, digging his claws into the earth and gritting his teeth to fight back tears.

"It does not work that way, Kagome or I would be forced to live off of the souls of the dead for eternity." She watched him, bawling in tearless grief, and knew now that he was unable to comprehend any other way. He was not willing to give into the possibility of his love being gone forever. "Have you asked Sesshoumaru?"

He looked up at her question, looking worse than before, full of an unseen anger and hate that she had once felt deep within her.

"Tenseiga is broken; his own fang cannot fix it."

Kikyou watched him for a moment, and then with a detached sadness, offered an explanation: "His heart is not pure enough."

Inuyasha made no motion to confirm this, he simply sat and watched her, gazing through her face, or looking for Kagome's?

"Then I have nothing to offer you," she whispered. His ears flattened against his head, and he crumpled down into another ball, wrapping his arms around his body, trying to prevent himself from unveiling the depth of his sorrow.

Kikyou watched him in silence. She knew that the sun would rise again, and the dawn would break for every man woman and child, and the blood shed on the battlefield would sink into the earth, making way for new life. The wars would be forgotten, and new ones would be made, and sweet, loving girls like Kagome would die again and again, trampled underfoot by a tide that did not care for their coming. Was it not her at one time? Did she not fall down into the darkness and stumble away in death? Her blood once stained the fields of battle, her bones were once broken in the eternal flame, and her spirit was released into the endless sea of time.

There was always a girl or boy, who was lost too soon, who perished before their time. In an age of war, what else could be expected of those who traveled a path of bloodshed besides death? Her eyes were fixed on him, and she watched him lean forward, pressing his head against the ground, cursing Naraku or whatever demon had sent Kagome to her fate. Then the thought came to her, and Kikyou raised her head in triumph, as if it had been waiting for her, this one chance to throw death away, to cast her body against it and let it break her, but not another soul. She would not watch Inuyasha suffer again, even if it was needless…even if this was a pain that all people felt, every moment, every second of the day, she knew that she could not bare to watch someone she loved suffer, with no way to comfort them.

"Inuyasha," he ignored her, but she pressed on, knowing the importance of her words. "I will do what I can."

-

He almost could not believe that she said it, but did not dare to utter a word. Kikyou looked beautiful in her determination and her face was set in a familiar expression of confidence. Stepping towards him, she placed her hand on his chest and then let her hand slip into his. Wordlessly, Inuyasha led her away, struggling within himself, trying to comprehend why she would agree, what she had to gain, and with each step saw Kikyou become stronger as she ignored her pain, and focused her energy on a greater goal.

His eyes swallowed her up, and he remembered this strong woman who lived for others, who's life was always full of the people she protected, and that even in death, she could not turn the ones who needed her away. On their journey to Kaede's village, where Miroku and Sango had taken Kagome's body to rest, Inuyasha tightened his grip on Kikyou's hand, even as she stumbled less frequently and held her own weight. She offered him a mystical and selfless gift, one that he was too afraid to question, even after her warning of the torment Kagome or she may suffer, full of the souls of the dead, with innocents fueling their existence.

In two days he would see Kagome again, and he would protect her and she would yell at him and laugh and cry, but she would live, and her heart would beat again in her quiet chest. He did not want to throw away this moment, this last chance for his happiness, and yet his mind called him to speak the truth.

"Kikyou," she did not turn to acknowledge him, she merely continued on, lifting herself higher with every step, steering her body onto a course that she was accustomed to going all her life. "You told me that you or Kagome would suffer—"

"She will not." Her confidence shook her and he came astride her, looking at her questionably, even more eager to reach Kagome, and tempted beyond belief to carry Kikyou the rest of the way, disregarding her fervent protests.

"How?" He struggled to ask, even as he knew the answer. It threatened from behind Kikyou's veiled eyes, and they burned with a light and a sadness he could not read.

She turned her face away from him to be sure that he did not see it, and then with a mocking, threatening voice, she threw her head up and remarked upon it daringly, saying that she would give Kagome her soul, that she would slip into darkness, that her questions would cease, and this real pain would stop, and the eternal pain would ebb away. She said that she would rest, that her mind would be at ease, that Midoriko was wrong for restoring her without the blessed wit to take it away, and that his perfect, wonderful, sweet Kagome would return to him, as if the world had never been ripped apart to watch her go away.

He paused and watched her, almost motionless as she continued on, quicker than before, with her steps eager and full of grace. He knew somewhere within him he should call out to her and tell her no, that he would rather see her alive than dead, that Kagome would never accept Kikyou giving her life up for her.

But he could not be sure, he could not know what Kagome would feel or think, especially now that Kikyou was willing to bring her back, and that he would be happy to see her again.

Perhaps death was calming, perhaps death would be something that Kikyou would welcome as she claimed to, perhaps it would chill the flame in her eyes and release the weight that still appeared to torment her soul? Inuyasha knew nothing of death, but the long empty sleep that he felt embrace him, he thought of nothing and knew nothing, only he was not truly dead, and could only assume that was the long dark peace that Kikyou yearned for. If this was true, how could he, in good conscience, deny her of it?

-

Another day passed, and by the next morning, Inuyasha knew that they would be in site of Kaede's village. He ached to be near Kagome again, despite Kikyou's promises that the restoration of Kagome's soul, combined with her spiritual powers, would restore the girl to full health. They passed through fields of bright flowers and tall grass, breathtaking in their glory, but Kikyou did not seem to see them, she did not stop to fawn over them in the last day of her life, or slow her step to rest her weary body.

She still ached, even if her mind denied it, she suffered from her sprained ankle and bruised ribs, coupled with the throbbing of her head.

A gale of wind enveloped her body, and she stood for a moment, resting her hand against the bark of a tree. She was sweating and her stomach ached. Her legs shook with fatigue, and she bent forward, falling onto her knees. Almost immediately, she felt Inuyasha's presence by her side, and he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back against him, trying to shake her into consciousness. She raised one hand to touch his face, ensuring him that she was well.

"Food," she murmured, placing a sweaty palm against her forehead. "I had almost forgotten about food." She turned her head to him, and with a narrow smile and false sweetness, muttered an apology.

He took it in for what it was: practiced kindness, not unlike her insistence that she would hand her soul over in exchange for Kagome's, and his attempt to rescue her from lapsing into a heavy faint.

Kikyou sat at the foot of a tree, feeling the gentle breeze of the wind as it died down into nothing, teasing her face and hair, calming her as she ate a simple meal of fish and roots, taken in a hurry from a nearby river and abandoned farm. Inuyasha fidgeted impatiently, wanting to urge her on but unable to, deep within his aching heart lurked the reluctance to urge even a willing woman, onto her death.

The sun glanced through the trees, making patterns on the ground, and the birds sang in a temporary world, away from the death and the gloom of the battlefield. Kikyou shut her ears to it; there was no need for her to indulge in this world, one that continued to bring her nothing but pain. She would return to her place, and Kagome would return to hers, along with Inuyasha and every other being who continued to live on, even as the young, pretty girls died.

Resting her hands against her side, she rose shortly, noting Inuyasha's continued distance, even in her suffering, and made her way to her feet.

"Let's go." She nodded towards the road, acknowledging his unspoken words, his apologies and his urgencies, even his grief over finally choosing one of them over the other, even while one of them was sleeping a kinder death.

He followed her, and Kikyou tried to ignore the pretty scenery, his confusion, and her heart ache. Soon it would all be over, she would give him back Kagome—and even if it was selfish, she would die in peace while the other her watched in agony as Inuyasha found himself unable to forget her and what she had done, just as she found herself forced to do now.

The world would unfold before them and they would move through it, carving their way as Inuyasha was apt to do, and how she could not bring herself to do, even in life.

Every step brought her closer to this fate, a path laid out before her by the darkness in her heart.

"Even life cannot free me," Kikyou whispered, in a trance that existed somewhere between her two worlds, the dark and the light, mingled forever in a sea of gray. "The pain that I suffer is not something that even life can restore."

Inuyasha walked wearily behind her, half listening to her words and half hoping they would stop. He did not need to hear Kikyou's thoughts, which seemed the same as they had over 50 years ago, when she had first confessed them to him.

Somewhere in his heart, the heavy curtains, thrown over the waxing light, were pulled away, crumbling into a great heap beneath them. This single action, triggered by his past love's mournful words, cleaved the great stone in two that rested on his mind, allowing the thoughts that had long plagued him to reawaken. They were memories of regret and malice, his frustration and anger at finding Kagome dead, and realizing that Kikyou had been given the chance to live. The world had been thrown out of balance, and the girl who had stayed by his side in his everlasting battle was gone.

Worse than this, was the thought that he might not miss her as much as he thought he would, because the woman who he had long loved stood there, smiling, like a ghost. Kikyou's glowing face, her windswept tears and dark, waves of lustrous hair, flew out behind her, and she stood with one hand pressed over her beating heart. He was shocked into silence, watching her breathe at long last, and then cry out, in unseen pain as she fell to the ground. Kagome was wrapped in his arms, and he squeezed her to himself, watching, numbly, as Kikyou was struck from behind by one of Naraku's demons.

She fell down, and he willed her to fall, hoping somewhere in his mind, in the deep recesses of the dark thoughts that no one wants to admit exist or cry out to them in the night, that she might die, that her neck might twist, or she might lean forward and slip away painlessly, releasing her soul back into Kagome's thin, wavering form, and blow away somewhere, never to return and cease her torment.

This was the reason. This was why he hated her, and why his heart was smothered in a sea of broken ashes, burned out by the presence of her unwanted light. Even as she treaded on, towards the darkness within herself and the death that she hoped to receive, he could still see it glimmering like an auburn shade, hot and angry, lusty for life, happy that his love was gone, victorious and vicious with all of her hateful words and his hateful thoughts.

He wished her to die, and he hated himself for this wish, and loathed her for giving into it. Worse, he hated Kagome for not being here to tell him he was wrong, and he hated Midoriko for her self-righteous gift, for believing that she knew better than his heart, or Kagome's heart, or the minds of the people who had suffered under the Shikon No Tama, and seen fit to disrupt his world. Why couldn't they both live? Why couldn't they both die?

He remembered Kagome's wonder and joy at seeing the light flash and Kikyou erupt into a ball of bright, gleaming light, full of elation because her body had been restored. He also remembered her subsequent cry of pain, her vain calling for him, as he thrust his sword into Naraku's head, and saw her slashed through the neck and throat, seconds after Kikyou's gift. Then her soul, her precious soul, rose up from her body and made its way into Kikyou, making the stoic priestess smile, just before she was nearly downed in the field of battle.

He fought back tears at the memory. Why didn't Kikyou just die? Why did he have to leave him with the memory of his failure, and the memory of _her_?

Then her words cut into him, and he turned his head to regard her, moving with a silent reverence for this living ghost, who had become both his vaunted prize and his torment.

The sky opened up above them, and Inuyasha sped his step a little, aware of Kikyou's dragging feet. She did not cry, she did not turn to regard him as he came astride her, walking as if he were alone, mirroring her own solitary procession.

"We're almost there." He urged, suddenly feeling nervous as the sky continued to break and water poured down from above. Kikyou soon became soaked but ignored the biting cold as they came closer to the village.

Soon she would be free; there was no point in prolonging her life with worldly desires such as a warm fire or cloak. The village was just over the next hill, and Inuyasha knew that Kagome's body would be waiting for him, and that he would bring Kikyou to return her to this world and that Kikyou would be at rest, and his mind would be at peace, and they would all be happy again.

As they came within site of the well and goshinbuko, Kikyou paused and looked it over. He saw her hands tremble and then tense, ceasing their nervous twittering. He looked past her, afraid to see her face and remind himself of what she was going to do, or remind her of what they had done. The rain came down with more force, and he flattened his ears against his head, turning his face to the side in worried annoyance. Kagome was not too far away, she would not be alone for long…he would not be alone. Kikyou gazed at the tree.

"Inuyasha," she said, suddenly quite alive, no longer a ghost or a clay doll, or a broken woman, or a priestess, or a sweet little smiling girl, "please forgive me before I die."

His ears twitched, and the anger and pain in his face softened to a blunt sadness. His eyes were downcast, and she heard his broken voice come back to hers.

"I forgave you along time ago."

The rain whispered in the silence, covering the world with the concealed tears that lurked within their hearts, the echoes that they had not allowed to reveal their souls. Kagome had allowed these to pour forth with all of her strength, showing him the depths of her heart, as she had shown the world her weaknesses and her strengths. He reflected, with profound sadness, that neither he nor Kikyou seemed capable of shedding tears in this way. Their feelings of despair and sadness lurked within them, unable to escape, churning and crumbling into a dry, weak reflection of what they felt. He wondered if Kikyou felt more profoundly now that she was alive. Was Kagome's soul warm within her? Did she nurture it or shut it out?

The wind blew against them, and he saw Kikyou's hair fan out around her, as it had when he had first looked on her with feelings of love, but now he was full of scars and pain, feelings that could not go on existing as they once had.

She turned towards him, and her expression was full of the same sweetness he remembered, with a new unrelenting sadness calling back to him. He took the sight of her in with a checked breath. His anger would not allow him to take her for what she was, it would not allow him to understand who she could be, or whether or not she had ever changed, or if it mattered if she did, or if it had ever mattered.

Did he still want to bury his face in her hair and forget what he was? Was it even possible? He wanted to feel his hands around her neck, and her sweet lips on his, and Kagome in his arms, he wanted to feel everything but himself.

He felt naked and ashamed with Kikyou still staring at him, devoid of any fight left and smiling a sweet, empty smile. It faltered with ease, and she returned her face to its accustomed expression, passing by him, towards the village and where Kagome's body rested, wrapped in soft cloth from her time, with Miroku and Sango kneeling on either side, crouched under a hasty shelter.

Neither raised their heads to regard him. Sango turned her face away, crying mutely and stepping away. Miroku's expression was sad and full of darkness, to Inuyasha he was unreadable.

"Kikyou," the half-demon began to explain, but paused as feelings of regret filled him. He and Miroku watched silent woman who knelt beside Kagome, resting her hands on her forehead, stroking her hair away with sadness.

"She intends to give Kagome-sama her soul back." Miroku announced the sentence with a sense of resolve, but Inuyasha could not understand his feelings, he could not understand or decipher his intentions. His long-time friend merely looked down at the girl who rested on Kikyou's still lap, kissed by the falling rain.

The world seemed to slow around them, and Inuyasha became starkly aware of the bitter silence that engulfed them. Where was Kaede? Where had Sango gone? Would he be left alone to do this? Miroku was kneeling attentively, but clearly did not intend to lend a hand in assistance, or a word of advice. Shippo was absent.

The person who he most wanted to hear the advice of was not here, and his friends wanted nothing to do with the ritual that would return her.

With disgust, he realized that he was not willing to take any part in it either. He did not want to restore Kagome and watch Kikyou die again. Recoiling, he glanced at the wraith who once again sat in Kikyou's place, lifting her hands in preparation for her final prayer.

Absurd thoughts of duty swirled in his brain, should he ask Miroku to perform the necessary services for Kikyou when she was gone? How should they burn the body? Would she be laid to rest in the same place that she once been laid to rest before? Would Kaede want to be present now?

His hands were sweaty, and his heart was beating quickly. Kikyou lifted one hand for final, endless task. He watched her, hesitantly, eagerly—to stop her now would mean the end of his suffering, to allow her to continue would be the beginning. Would he watch the woman that he loved die again to return the other?

Naraku would have laughed if he could watch his greatest enemy struggle with this dilemma. Kikyou would die by his hand, even if his influence was indirect, even if his desire for her sacrifice had gone unspoken, she knew it was a request that he, in his abysmal grief would have made.

She had merely spared him the shame of asking it. Kikyou, who he loved and hated, was enduring suffering yet again, in her self-righteous martyring and self-pity, to bring back a girl who he knew meant nothing more to her than a person who deserved a passing glance of kindness, or the dutiful nurturing of a priestess.

Once again, she was doing what she was called to do. Those thoughts brought him a bit of peace, but the ones that followed, the more comprehensible, hateful thoughts, for their logic and sinful perfection, tore in after them. This action, which she would perform for anyone in pain or suffering, was different, because Kikyou did it to alleviate her own suffering, which was not eternal as she believed it to be, which could be cured if he allowed himself to do what he feared and hated to do: he could love her, and comfort her, even if he thought it was breaking Kagome's heart, somewhere in the other world.

Bringing Kagome back was not the same selfless act that she would perform for any innocent or soldier who died in battle. It would cost Kikyou her life, which had been restored to her by Midoriko, who despite her self-righteous, clouded judgment, had only meant to bring the long-suffering woman peace. This peace was marred by his denial of love and existence, but it did not change the genuine goodness of Midoriko's intentions, just as his desire to see Kagome restored to new life, fueled by both his anger and frustration, would not be devoid of his good intentions, even if Kagome should suffer later for them.

Worse, he thought, watching Kikyou lower her hand to expel her soul from her body, how could I expect Kagome to love me, or forgive me, by allowing Kikyou to die?

Inuyasha's brow lowered slightly, over his sad, fearful face.

He knew Kagome would love him, despite everything, no matter what he'd done, because he would love her, and he knew that when she returned to life, he would hate himself for allowing Kikyou to die, for hating Kikyou, for denying his love for her in favor of Kagome's, and he knew that he would hate himself for wishing Kagome dead because she lived in Kikyou's place.

He would hate himself because this time he was the one at fault, for everything, for everyone, there was no enemy lurking in the darkness, Naraku did not hold the keys to victory or death, instead, he did, and he alone stood as judge and executioner over who's soul deserved to go on while the other's did not.

Then Kikyou's hand fell, like a merciless voyeur of fate upon Kagome's heart, and Inuyasha thought that she would feel it beat, and diminish into darkness, forever enraptured by her hate and her sorrow, and Kagome would return, full of the life that had been torn from her so violently.

She did not.

Kikyou faltered slightly, and lowered her hand again, creasing her brow, breathing laboriously, crying, wheezing, hoping her life would flush out, and Kagome's would blaze again, releasing her from the torment of living in a world where the one she loved wanted another and hated her.

The rain whispered on, falling from the sky in a torrent, dripping through the small lean-to shelter, dusting off of Miroku's shoulder, and crowning Kikyou's head.

He watched as Kikyou lifted her hands to her face, burying her shade there, and Miroku drew one hand over to part the waves and pull the shadow of cloth over Kagome's head.

Inuyasha watched him as he stood and walked away, and in a short time became acutely aware of how Miroku had known, before they had even arrived, that his plan would not work. He looked to Kikyou and wondered if she had known, but knew in her immense grief over living again that she had not. He wondered if he had known, as Kikyou had lifted her hand to bless Kagome's head.

He liked to think he did not. He liked to think, with the last vestiges of hope that he stored in his soul, that he was a good enough of a person to had not. But that was not true, he would have murdered himself and Kikyou to bring Kagome back, and he would have wished Kagome dead for making him do it, and he would have wished himself dead, for continuing to live while one of them was gone.

Kikyou turned to him and crumbled helplessly into his arms, and he squeezed her tightly, not knowing or wondering why, and not caring that the questions in his mind swirled on.

Inuyasha was content that he could do more.

He could not bring Kagome peace as he had struggled to do when she lived and Kikyou did not, dancing before him, taunting him with her suffering.

He could do nothing to bring peace to the other; he could not bring one back to live again, or to suffer while he struggled to pay her homage and peace.

An empty feeling of solace flowed through him as he realized he had done all he could hope to do. He had exhausted every avenue available to him, and his soul had run dry and overflowed, and moved on and filled up, and now he was here, holding onto one last thing that he loved, releasing his hate into the falling rain.

He would do what he could to relieve her suffering, and he hoped that somewhere within her Kikyou would find the strength to forgive him and relieve his own, but he knew with bitter clarity that what she intended or wanted to do did not matter to him, as long as someone continued to exist and he could continue to try to love them.

End.


End file.
